As the group accepting the liquid on K'en's hand and hurried forward to round the bend in the hallway, they finally caught sight of their elusive mystery intruder. Half-way down the hall from them a hulking shape stood crouched over something. As N'mol and Kindra lifted their glows, the scene was illuminated for the entire party and-- after the near heart-attacks at the sight of a ghostly green figure, all of the pieces suddenly fell into place.
A large Green wher stood in the hallway, half-crouched over the fallen form of her handler, letting out a piteous noise as the light blinded her slightly and forced her to avert her gaze from the party of rescuers. Her back leg oozed ichor from a deep gash in her thigh and various smaller cuts gleamed with fresh ichor as well. The Green keened quietly in objection to the light, then let out another long, piteous moan, like the ones that had drawn the party on. Up close, the sound was nearly deafening, and the inhuman quality much more obvious.
Although the wher was standing before her handler, blocking the majority of the person's body, the arm flopped out to the visible side of the human was bleeding sluggishly, but freely. The shredded shirtsleeve was already dyed crimson with blood and couldn't absorb anymore. Clearly, the person had thrown up his or her arm to fend off the tunnel snakes when they had attacked, which meant the arm had taken a majority of the damage. However, since the handler had yet to move or speak, it was clear that he or she was unconscious and it was not the person's only injury. The empty sheathe on the handler's exposed leg also implied that the knife-- definitely the one used to inflict the cleaner cuts on the tunnel snakes-- was his or hers, but that the real tearing damage had been done by the wher in her defense of the handler.
The Green with the ghostly markings let out a low, sad moan, her eyes whirling white and gray. Her bright markings and spikes glowed nearly as much as the ichor on her leg glittered. Clearly, in her distress over her handler and ignoring her own injuries, she had done the only thing she could think of in a panic: attempted to drag him or her back to the wherhandler buildings to get help, calling for someone to aid her the whole way. The calls had been leading her pursuers on. Once she had heard them in the hallways, following her path, she had realized help could be closer at hand than she had expected and continued to call in the hopes that someone would arrive to assist her handler.
A large Green wher stood in the hallway, half-crouched over the fallen form of her handler, letting out a piteous noise as the light blinded her slightly and forced her to avert her gaze from the party of rescuers. Her back leg oozed ichor from a deep gash in her thigh and various smaller cuts gleamed with fresh ichor as well. The Green keened quietly in objection to the light, then let out another long, piteous moan, like the ones that had drawn the party on. Up close, the sound was nearly deafening, and the inhuman quality much more obvious.
Although the wher was standing before her handler, blocking the majority of the person's body, the arm flopped out to the visible side of the human was bleeding sluggishly, but freely. The shredded shirtsleeve was already dyed crimson with blood and couldn't absorb anymore. Clearly, the person had thrown up his or her arm to fend off the tunnel snakes when they had attacked, which meant the arm had taken a majority of the damage. However, since the handler had yet to move or speak, it was clear that he or she was unconscious and it was not the person's only injury. The empty sheathe on the handler's exposed leg also implied that the knife-- definitely the one used to inflict the cleaner cuts on the tunnel snakes-- was his or hers, but that the real tearing damage had been done by the wher in her defense of the handler.
The Green with the ghostly markings let out a low, sad moan, her eyes whirling white and gray. Her bright markings and spikes glowed nearly as much as the ichor on her leg glittered. Clearly, in her distress over her handler and ignoring her own injuries, she had done the only thing she could think of in a panic: attempted to drag him or her back to the wherhandler buildings to get help, calling for someone to aid her the whole way. The calls had been leading her pursuers on. Once she had heard them in the hallways, following her path, she had realized help could be closer at hand than she had expected and continued to call in the hopes that someone would arrive to assist her handler.
